The Immortal Greek by Monica La Porta Page A

and chose his ensemble for the day: the lightest hue of blue for his shirt, a pair of dark blue jeans, custom-made charcoal gray leather shoes, and a pair of sleek sunglasses resting on his blond hair. He drank a cup of espresso as he passed through the kitchen on the first floor, thanked Marta, who told him he looked handsome, and gave her a kiss on the cheek.
    “Tell Pietro not to wait for me. I’ll be back late tonight.” He grabbed a croissant Marta had just taken out of the oven and headed down to the garage.
    ****
    Ravenna sipped from the stemmed glass of red she had poured for herself. Once the water filled the tub and she had selected the salts for her bath, she realized something was still missing from the picture. The fact it was morning didn’t detract from her need for wine.
    Now, her head above the hot water, her reader safely strapped on the bath tray she had bought from some airplane catalogue or another—she travelled so much for her job memories were blurred or maybe the wine was already effecting her. She wasn’t a drinker, but once in a while she indulged her palate with expensive reds.
    Knowingly or not—it didn’t matter—Samuel had dumped a world of grief on her. She’d been wrong twice when she thought she knew why the angel had assigned her to that job. Her abilities and Drako’s friendship to Samuel hadn’t had any weight in the liaison’s decision to call her. The dead boy, Sigmund Stross, of the famous Stross family, one of the most influential among the immortal community, had been one of Tommaso’s closest friends. She had never met the boy—at the time of Tommaso’s death, they had been estranged—but she knew of Sigmund and his accolade. She had never wanted to meet Sigmund, even though he had written to her asking to talk after Tommaso committed suicide. At first, she had wanted to lay the blame of her brother’s death on Sigmund. Later, she deduced Tommaso had been murdered. She hadn’t seen her brother for several decades and just as they had reconciled, she lost him in such a senseless way. She felt guilty and angry at the whole world for her loss. She had met Karl soon after and the handsomely dark immortal seemed to pull her from her darkness at just the right time.
    She wished she had been nicer to her fiancé earlier, but what was done was done. When Karl—the man she had been exclusive with for the better part of sixty years—had leaned over to kiss her, she had seen someone else before her eyes. She had seen Alexander Drako and almost said his name out loud. Hence the need for her most expensive red in the middle of the morning.
    Soft steps resonated through the kitchen. Karl must have come back. She wasn’t happy at the idea of having to confront him again, but she understood one talk wasn’t enough for him. With a sigh, she put the red on the bath tray next to her reader, open to the same page for the last forty-five minutes, and pushed the tray on its rail to the other side of the tub. Careful not to spill water everywhere, she reached for the terry robe she had hung on the wall hook.
    By habit, she kept her body angled so she could see the door and caught a glimpse of a dark, scurrying shadow. Senses on full alert, she exited the tub as she let go of the robe. In complete silence, the figure covered in black came running into the bathroom and pushed her against the edge of the tub. Her knees buckled and she steadied herself by grabbing the hook over her head, but the hook couldn’t hold her weight and pulled out of the wall. As she fell backward, she still tried to defend herself from her assailant’s blows by raising her arms before him. She stopped an upper jab, but a kick hit her in her chest, making her lose control of her body. She hit her head against the back wall as she sank into the tub, water splashing over the edge and splattering like shattered glass on the floor. The assailant’s hands were at her throat and she was pushed down until her face